Being Human
by Daydreamer2010
Summary: Parallel universe in which there is no Doctor, only John Smith, a mere human being from Leadworth. For this world's Amelia Pond, he is more than enough.
1. Pond

Pond

The new house was big and old, though not as ancient or as large as the Victorian terraced house that had held the attic flat where she'd lived in Edinburgh. The new house was different from the flat in all aspects – the flat had been warm, clean, prettily decorated and tidily furnished. And when she'd lived in the flat, her parents had too.

Amelia Jessica Pond was an orphan. Her parents had died when the entire Victorian terrace burned down in a chip pan fire that had started in the basement flat and made its way up to their attic. There had been no escape for her sleeping mother and father. Amelia herself had been sleeping over at her Aunt Sharon's bungalow on that fateful night; her parents had had a lot of work to do that evening - they were both authors - and needed some peace and quiet from their boisterous little daughter.

The harsh memory of waking up the next morning to a grave-eyed police woman revealing the horrible news was one of confusion and hurt. She had bitten that poor police woman, called her a mean, dirty liar...and then broken down in her Aunt's restraining arms and sobbed her heart out. She had let a life's worth of tears out that night. From then on, Amelia Pond _didn't cry_.

There were more changes to come. Sharon, a photographer, had been planning to move to England to capture some new landscapes, and she was a no-nonsense sort of woman, not the sort who would dismantle her own plans for the good of a grieving seven-year-old. And so, six months after losing her parents, Amelia had had to say goodbye to all her friends in Edinburgh and move away with her aunt. They moved to the countryside, of course, for the landscapes; a village named Leadworth, in Gloucestershire - possibly the most boring village in the history of the universe, in Amelia's opinion. Sharon, painstakingly honest as always, had told her everything there was to know about the place: there was a pub, two shops, a post office, an old folks home, a village green, a church, a hall, some houses, and that was it. Nothing more.

They had taken the train from her beloved home city down to Gloucester, and then a taxi to Leadworth. It was afternoon when they arrived at the house. Now, as young Amelia explored her new home, she began to wonder how it had all come to this. The new house was too big for her and her aunt alone, truthfully, and it was utterly decrepit – two details which gave the house a slightly spooky feel. The rusty swing, swinging eerily in the summer wind, made her imagine a ghost child. Not that Amelia cared. She wasn't scared of ghosts anyway. The garden was wild and undisciplined - a little like Amelia herself, her aunt commented – and ivy grey up all over the worn white walls of the house. The only thing Amelia honestly liked was the fact that nearly every room in the house had blue walls; shabby, peeling blue walls, but still blue. Blue was her favourite colour - blue like the sky, blue like the sea, blue like the planet, and blue like her mother's eyes (and Aunt Sharon's, but that was irrelevant).

But the house was empty. No furniture, not yet, the trucks wouldn't be arriving until evening. The floorboards were bare, and the room which was to be her bedroom had a huge, smile-shaped crack in the wall. Amelia stood in the doorway staring at the crack for a long time. It made her feel strange, to look at it. Uncomfortable. Nervous. Frightened, even. Only that was stupid. She shook herself and ran off down the corridor, the floorboards creaking under her sandals.

"How long before the lorry men get here?" she asked her aunt, who was inspecting the staircase.

"About three hours, dear," Sharon replied absently, wondering if the banister was sturdy enough.

"I can't wait that long!" Amelia protested. Because if she didn't keep herself busy, she would start thinking about her parents.

"Go out and play," said her aunt, "Go and check out the duck pond. The village green's just round the corner."

Unimpressed, Amelia sighed, but with nothing else to do ran out of the house and across the garden. She went to the green.

Amelia spotted the duck pond immediately, as her hazel green eyes scanned the dull, tidy stretch of grass, and the first thing she noticed was that there was someone crouched beside it - a boy, about her own size. In her state of petulant boredom she found this irritating – why did someone have to be there when she needed some time alone? She marched up the pond and stood behind him.

"Excuse me, but would you please step away from that duck pond? It's mine for now," she said loudly.

The boy twisted round to face her. He had a mop of floppy brown hair that fell in a fringe over his stormy blue eyes. He blinked when he saw her, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment.

"Have I got somthing on my face?" she demanded, cocking an eyebrow.

The boy sprang to his feet. "No," he said quickly, "And it's not a duck pond."

"No?"

"No. There are no ducks. How can it be a duck pond if there are no ducks?"

Amelia frowned. "It just is. Who are you, anyway?"

"John Smith. You?"

Amelia held her frown for a moment, then let it go and sighed. "Amelia. Amelia Pond."

The boy – John Smith – was suddenly delighted, his unusual little face breaking into an enormous grin. "Oh, that's a brilliant name. _Amelia Pond_," he repeated the words with admiration. "Like a name in a fairytale."

Amelia couldn't help but smile a little. "How old are you?" she asked. He was taller than her, but only a little.

"Seven," he said, "Eight next February. You?"

"Eight next March," said Amelia, admitting that he was older than her.

"Are you Scottish?"

"Yes."

"Did you move here with your mum and dad?"

Amelia's face fell as her heart did likewise. "I don't have a mum and dad. Just an Aunt."

John smiled reassuringly. "I live with my godparents. I don't even have an Aunt." Amelia smiled back, happier than she had been in a long while.

There was a pause, as the two stared shyly at their shoes. Then:

"I like your hair," John said quietly.

"Oh," embarrassed, Amelia fingered a lock of her fiery red waves.

"And your freckles," he added.

"Okay!" Amelia said sharply. She wasn't used to receiving compliments she hadn't demanded.

John blushed, and she grinned.

"Hey," she said, "D'you want to play a game? It's this story I was making up on the journey here from Edinburgh. There's this magic man with a magic box that can take you anywhere. It can even travel in time! One day the magic box crashes in my garden and the magic man takes me with him. We go to other planets and we go back and forward in time. We're heroes, me and the magic man. You can be the magic man, if you want."

"That sounds brilliant!" John exclaimed, his face lighting up.

"But first," Amelia said carefully, "I want to show you the crack in my wall."

John nodded willingly, stormy blue eyes wide. Yes, Amelia Jessica Pond decided, blue was defiantly her favourite colour.


	2. Crack

Crack

"That's the crack," she'd pointed out to him, when to two of them stood in the doorframe of her new bedroom on the afternoon she'd arrived.

John's eyes grew wide as he gazed at the sinister smile. "I can see why it scares you," he said. He received a hard punch on the shoulder in reply. "Ow! What have I done?"

"I'm not scared!" Amelia cried, "It just makes me feel weird!"

"Amelia, keep your voice down!" hissed Aunt Sharon, coming down the landing from her own room. She noticed John, who was rubbing his shoulder. "Who's this?" she enquired.

"Um, this is John," Amelia gave him a sideways glance, "He's my new...friend."

The hand of John's rubbing his shoulder dropped back to his side as he grinned with joy at Amelia's summary of him.

"Well, that's great," her aunt smiled, "What are you doing?"

"We're about to play a game."

"That's good. Could you do it outside?"

"Yeah. Come on, John." Amelia grabbed John by the elbow and steered him down the stairs.

"I can see why it makes you feel weird," John said into her ear, "I feel the same."

"Thanks."

She met his godparents the next day, when John took her round to his house. He lived in upper Leadworth, in a beautiful little cottage at the edge of the village. Mr and Mrs McCarthy, his godparents, an aging, childless couple, seemed to her very loving, yet distant, not unlike her own aunt. She stayed at his house until late, not keen to go back to her own lonely residence. When the day turned to night they lay on their backs on the neatly mowed lawn of John's back garden, gazing up at the stars. John was telling her his story.

"I've lived here all my life, you know. It's really boring at weekends because there's nowhere to go, not like if I lived in London. My mum and dad died when I was a baby. I never knew them."

"Oh, that's a shame," Amelia pitied him.

"No, it's okay. I've never felt sad about them being dead, because I can't miss them. Not like with you. You must have felt hurt."

"Yeah," she would say no more where her loss was concerned.

"Amelia, I want to tell you something. Promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

"I've never really had a friend of my own before you," He paused to see if Amelia would laugh. When she didn't, he said "All the other kids, they just seem...different. They don't see things like I do."

"I know that feeling," Amelia said softly. And she did, despite the fact she had had plenty of friends in Scotland.

"I'm so glad I met you," John exlaimed, with more passion than was normal for a seven-year-old.

At that, Amelia sat up suddenly, staring down at her friend with troubled green eyes.

"John," she spoke seriously, "I didn't laugh at what you said. Laugh at what I'm about to say and I won't be your friend any more, not ever again."

John stared up at her with wide eyes. To him, not being friends with this wonderful fairytale person seemed like the worst prospect in the world. "I won't laugh, I swear it," he promised.

Amelia took a deep breath, "Last night, my first night in my new room, I had a nightmare. I dreamt about the crack in my wall. I dreamt that it was taking people, taking them so that they wouldn't exist anymore. If you walked through the crack then you would never have been born. And when I woke up...it was still there. I mean, of course it was, but in the dark, smiling at me like that, it made me feel...scared. I was scared, John."

John was solemn, frowning in thought at her confession. Then, all of a sudden, his stormy blue eyes lit up and he beamed up at her. "I know what to do," he said.

"What?"

"We must become Amelia Pond and her magic man again. Together we can close up the cracks."

"Okay," Amelia laughed.

"One thing," John sat up slowly, "The magic man. He needs a name. A proper name."

Amelia thought of the scene she'd imagined of the man crawling out of his time machine, his clothes in shreds. Then she recalled how in her head he was always helping people, saving people.

"The Raggedy Doctor," she said decidedly. John expressed approval.

They played until Sharon came for Amelia, and she was forced to go home to the crack. But although it still haunted her dreams that night, it was accompanied by herself and John, conquering it.


	3. Eight

Eight

For John's eighth birthday, Amelia gave him a story she had written herself. It went:

_Once upon a time there was a lonely lady. She was stolen away from her family by an evil witch when she was a baby, and hidden away in a tiny cottage in the middle of an enchanted forest. The witch knew that as soon as the young girl was married she would be free to leave the witch's home, which the witch wanted never to happen because she was lonely herself. She cooked up a plot for the girl to think that no man would want her, destroying every mirror in the house and locking the baby away inside. As the girl grew older she became so beautiful that whenever she looked up at a grey sky from the window of her prison, the sun would come out and shine like gold. But the witch told her she was so ugly that the clouds were running away in fear. She told her that she must always stay inside the house so that nobody would ever see her ugly face and laugh at her, and because there were no mirrors the girl never knew it was a lie. She couldn't love the witch as a mother, and one day she was so lonely that she bent over the sink where she was about to wash dishes and cried her heart out. She cried a deep puddle. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her reflection on the water surface. Finally realising to her delight her true beauty, the lady ran out of the house to greet the world. Before long she met a wonderful young man and they fell in love. She never returned to the dark little cottage – she married the young man and lived with him in his big, fine house in the city for the rest of her life. As for the witch, she was very upset to find the lady gone, but soon she met an enormous toad who became her pet. And they all lived happily ever after. THE END. _

John said it was the best fairytale he had ever read. Typical John.

When Amelia turned eight, Sharon took the trouble to throw her a birthday party. Amelia hated the idea, but as usual her aunt refused to listen.

"Can't I just have a birthday tea here with John?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Amelia. The party will be fun. Now, have you seen my camera?"

And so, on the fourth of March, Amelia found herself standing in their blue hallway, greeting guests and accepting presents. Almost every child in Leadworth was invited. John was one of the last to arrive.

"Wow, Amelia..." he gaped at her. She was wearing a flared silk dress of deep blue, with small puffed sleeves and a wide sash around the waist. An alice-band of the same material kept her normally wild red hair back from her face. She wore white tights, and on her feet were matching silk pumps. "Um...why are you laughing?"

Amelia stifled another giggle. "John, why are you wearing a bow tie?"

John looked hurt as he straightened his new accessory. "Bow ties are cool."

Amelia rolled her eyes, and he placed an olive green parcel in her hands. Waving her friend through to the living room, she put the package on the growing pile.

After a birthday tea of chicken sandwiches, fizzy pop and pink cake, they played an assortment of the tedious birthday games both Amelia and John had always despised; musical statues, musical chairs, pass the parcel, and finally blind man's buff. John was voted the blind man because "_He hasn't even done anything yet,_" as the other children moaned.

Amelia watched him in sympathy as her aunt tied the acid yellow scarf around his eyes. They were playing in the garden to avoid damaging the furniture. Sharon spun John around and around until he had lost all sense of direction. When her hands left his shoulders he stumbled sideways, then forwards, then tripped over his own feet and fell on his hands and knees. Everyone save Amelia giggled at his indignity. Getting to his feet and taking a deep breath, John staggered towards the noise, extracting squeals of delight from the others as they scattered out of his way. Amelia felt no excitement - it was easy to avoid him as he lurched helplessly around the garden. This was not a fair game. The laughter of the party guests was beginning to sound cruel when John fell over the rusty swing and sprawled on the grass. Amelia frowned, and came to a decision.

When John stepped hesitantly forward, hands held in front of him like a zombie, somebody stepped straight in front of him. His hands tightened on their arms and his face held an expression of visible relief.

"Who's that?" he called into the darkness.

"Who d'you think?" hissed a Scottish accent.

Amelia ripped the scarf from his eyes. "Game's over," she announced. When the others whined, she said "I'm the birthday girl, and what I say goes."

"The mummies and daddies will be here shortly, anyway," put in Sharon.

After all the guests had left, John giving her a quick hug when nobody was looking, Amelia opened the presents. Most were items such as skipping ropes and hopscotch chalks, gifts from people who didn't really know her. Then she came to John's parcel. It was a very familiar shape. Amelia smiled – a book. Typical John.

She pulled at the blue ribbon and carefully unwrapped the parcel, making sure to save the green paper. The first thing she noticed about the book was the curly gold scripting of the title: _The Fairytales of Hans Christian Anderson_. And below the title was a picture of a beautiful woman, green-eyed and slender with pale skin dusted with freckles. Below her waist (quite unsurprisingly, seeing as she was underwater) was a deep blue fish tail. But it was her hair that drew Amelia's attention – it was fanned out around her head, the long wavy locks drifting in the water. On the crown of the woman's head sat a ring of pure white pearls, the colour of which contrasted strikingly with the shade of her hair: ginger. Bright, shining auburn. Judging by the pearls, Amelia decided, the mermaid must be a princess, the first red-headed princess she had ever seen. Usually their heads were golden or moonlight black. Amelia hugged the book to her chest, vowing mentally to treasure it forever. This was a book she could love, and John had known it. Typical John. 


	4. Hopefuls

Hopefuls

They were both somewhat misfits, half feared and half admired by the rest of their class in Leadworth Primary School. Amelia because of her incredible hair, fiery temper and vivid imagination. John because of his intelligence, smart mouth and pure charisma. They always had a little gang hanging around them at playtime, joining in with their games, but their only real friends were each other and everybody knew it.

Of course, there were the hopefuls. One was Rory Williams, the kind, goofy boy with an enormous nose and an obvious thing for Amelia. When she and John were huddled together in the reading corner over a fairytale book he would stare longingly over at them, knowing that he had no chance next John at being her special friend. Amelia was charmed by his well-meaning clumsiness. Sometimes she would talk to him when John was busy.

"Hey, Rory, d'you like my picture?" she said over the art table once when they were nine, while John was in the toilet. She was holding up a painting of a magnificent castle with turrets perched on top of a great mountain.

"Th-that's amazing," he stammered, honoured at her attention, "You know what would look really great on that picture?"

"What?"

"A girl in the tower window. A girl with orange hair. A princess."

"Okay, but I'd rather she was an explorer. She could have been captured by an evil witch on one of her adventures. Here, you can help me paint her in."

John returned a few minutes later to find his Amelia bent over her picture, watching Rory paint. On her picture. She never let anyone do that – no one but him.

"Hey, get away from Amelia's painting," he ordered, marching up the table.

"It's okay, John," Amelia reasoned while Rory bit his lip and continued to paint, "He's adding in a ginger explorer."

"Like Amelia," Rory added. He was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance against John after all.

"Get away from the painting," John said coldly, glaring at Rory.

Rory put the brush down, but didn't move. "I don't want to," he said.

"Get away!" John was close to yelling. Mrs Jones, the teacher, glanced up from her desk.

"John, leave him alone," Amelia was getting annoyed, "Let him finish."

John looked up at her, hurt. He was the only one she let touch her pictures – how could she place beak-nosed Rory on the same level as him? Hanging his head, he wandered over to the other side of the classroom. Feeling a little guilty, Amelia sat down next to Rory and nodded for him to go on painting.

"Hi, John," said a high, simpering voice. It was Rose Tyler, the second hopeful. At nine, she already wore blue shadow above her pale brown eyes along with glittery pink lip-gloss. Her mousy brown hair was rarely in the same style for more than one day. She had moved to Leadworth from London last year with her parents, and since then she had been trying relentlessly to make friends with John. John didn't like her much – she was the jealous type, often spiteful to Amelia, and she cried often – but he always tried to be kind.

"Oh, hello, Rose," he sighed, sitting down in the reading corner. Rose sat next to him.

"Is Amelia being mean to you?"

"No, she's not," John said quickly, "It was all my fault – I got angry about her talking to other people."

"Oh, that's okay. From now on she can play with Rory, and you can play with me."

"Oh, um..."

"You can be the time travelling man, as usual, and I can be the girl who travels with you," Rose was smiling sweetly.

"No," John said sharply, sharper than he'd meant, "That's Amelia's part, not yours. And it's Amelia's game. I can't play it with anyone else."

Rose's smile snapped off her face, and her eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were my friend," she whimpered.

John felt a little guilty, but he stood firm. "I'm sorry, Rose, but I'm not your friend. Amelia's my friend."

"I hate that weirdo Amelia!" Rose whined. Anger surged up inside John's chest.

"Then I hate you!" he hissed, not wanting Miss Morgan to hear.

Right at that moment, the bell went for home time. Miss Morgan dismissed the class. Amelia, who had been sitting chatting and painting with Rory but could not take her mind off John, ran straight to get her coat and bag. Leaving Rose to wipe away her own tears, John ran after her. He found Amelia in the cloakroom, buttoning up her blue duffle coat over her green check uniform. She looked a little subdued.

"I made Rose cry," he said simply. Amelia looked up at him in surprise.

"Why? How?"

"She said she hated you because you're my friend and she's not."

"And?"

"I said I hated her."

All of a sudden Amelia grinned and threw her arms around him, hugging him so tightly he could hardly breath. He hugged her back just as hard. Amelia pulled away before he was ready to let her go, but he did.

"Thanks," she said warmly, "Rory's nice but you're my best friend, you know that?"

"Of course I know. You're my best friend, too."

Amelia waited for him as he slipped on his jacket while the other kids fluttered past. She spared no more than a friendly smile for Rory, who came out comforting the distraught Rose. Then Amelia and John took hold of each other's hands and began the walk home together.

**Just to point out, I didn't mean this as Rose bashing, I was just portraying the jealous side of her, and don't forget, this was from the point of view of someone who doesn't like her. And I actually prefer Amy/Rory to Amy/Eleven, but this fic just happens to be the latter. Oh and also, I'm going away to France for ten days (getting on a plane for the first time in four years yippee!) so I won't be able to update till I get back. Hopefully somebody out there in this cruel, cold world is enjoying this enough to pick it up then. Please review, it would mean so much! **


	5. Victory

**Okay, so our Pond is getting older now, but I'm gonna keep her as Amelia. You see, in this universe the Doctor/John didn't leave her for fourteen years and she never had a reason to turn against fairytales. Enjoy!**

Victory

"You know, Pond, this is just like one of our games. Me and you, conquering the crack."

"Yeah, except I don't think fairytale Amelia and her Raggedy Doctor defeated the crooked smile with wall paste from her aunt's toolbox."

"You've got wall paste in your hair."

Amelia not only had paste in her hair but on her skin and top and skirt and even in her socks. John was no better off. But fixed upon their plaster-covered faces were defiant smiles. The crack in Amelia's bedroom wall was almost completely filled in. Amelia was just squeezing the last bit of paste out of the tube, aiming roughly into the crack.

"We could've just painted over it, you know," she said to John. It had been his idea.

John, scraping the overflowing paste of the wall with a cake slice, shook his head. "It's official this way."

Holding her breath, Amelia filled up the final bit of the crack, leaving only a smile shaped slither of wall paste, more lopsided than crooked now.

"It's done!" John announced proudly.

"Yippee!" Amelia held her arms in the air and jumped up and down in mock-excitement, somewhat sarcastically. But despite her cool play on the matter, she couldn't hide her true thankfulness that the crack was finally gone. She was eleven years old now, soon to be in high school, yet it still terrorised her dreams. In her room all around her were dolls, drawings and stories she and John had created all about their fairytale games. They made her feel safe at night, as if fairytale Amelia and her Raggedy Doctor were a reality, here to defeat the smile. And now Leadworth Amelia and John Smith had done just that, albeit a little less stylishly. She was thrilled, and all the snide comments and wit in the universe couldn't hide that from John.

"It's done," he said, gently this time.

"Yeah," Amelia spoke as if experiencing an epiphany. Then, briskly, she added "But we still need to paint it."

"Do you have blue paint in your house?"

"Of course. The paint on the walls is always peeling away, and Aunt Sharon keeps a can of the same colour under the stairs in case of emergencies. Stay here, I'll fetch it. Back in a sec."

A few minutes later and the two were happily painting over the wall paste. They managed this quite neatly – at least, the wall was neat. They themselves were not. Half of John's face was coated in midnight, as were both his arms and one leg, and I cannot even begin to describe the mess his clothes were in. Amelia's hair was now more blue than orange, her nose was blue and so were her ears. Her body was, well - she looked as if she'd been swimming in a pool of the stuff. They both had blue teeth because they'd been smiling all the time they were painting, which was at least proof of how happy they were. Miraculously, they managed not to get any paint on the floor.

"Done!" John cried, waving his brush, sending a large dollop of paint into Amelia's eye, "Oh, sorry."

"No worries," Amelia wiped the blob from her lid.

Suddenly, the two of them heard the front door open and slam. Amelia looked at John in a panic.

"Aunt Sharon! She'll hit the roof!"

John nodded, his eyes wide.

"Amelia? Help me carry the shopping through! Amelia! Is John with you? Where are you? Amelia!"

There was nowhere to run. Sharon's footsteps echoed up the stairs and up the hallway, and in a moment she was standing in the doorway of Amelia's room. What happened next was inevitable, but it still made Amelia and John wince.

Aunt Sharon began to shriek.

**This chapter was a bit daft and fluffy so be prepared for a fair bit of angst in the next one. **


	6. Betrayal

Betrayal

Thirteen-year-old Amelia Pond had just left her house, on her way to the green to meet John, one warm Sunday morning, when Jeff Angelo came by on his bicycle.

"Hey, Amelia!" he yelled to her as he passed, "Is it true that you used to be afraid of a crack in your own wall?"

Amelia froze. "What was that?" she called after him.

Jeff turned his bike around and came back in her direction, "You used to be afraid of a crack in your wall just because it looked like a smile!"

"That's not true!" she lied.

Jeff changed direction again, coming back the way he'd been headed, "It used to give you nightmares!"

Amelia opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again and yelled, "Who told you this?"

Jeff turned and peddled past her for the fourth time. His reply made Amelia's blood run cold. "It was that John! Some friend he is, right?"

Amelia's mouth fell open. No. This couldn't be true! But who else knew about the crack and how it had terrified her? She shivered despite the warm weather, but, clenching her mouth shut, absolutely refused to cry. That was not an Amelia Pond sort of thing to do. She instead picked up a stick which she hid behind her back and waited until Jeff had changed direction and was coming past on his original route once again. With perfect timing she jabbed the stick into the metal frame of his bicycle wheel, so that both Jeff and his bike went sprawling on the ground. Then she ran.

She ran to the green. She ran right across the lawn to the pond, where John was crouched with his back to her, as he had been upon their first meeting. Hearing her footsteps behind him, he grinned and stood to face her. His grin faded when he saw her, grinding to a halt in front of him, vibrant red hair tousled from running. On her face was a look she had never given him before – one of pure hate. Her hazel green eyes were bitter with anger, and somthing else – disappointment. As if she'd given up on him.

"Amelia..." he stared at her. He had never seen her so beautiful, or so terrifying.

"You told Jeff about the crack," she said coldly. It wasn't a question. There was no use pretending it could have been anyone else.

Guilt rose up inside John as he remembered. "It just slipped out," he protested, "Remember on Wednesday in P.E when you yelped as the ball nearly hit you?" Amelia said nothing, "Well, Jeff laughed and said you were scared of the ball, and I got angry and said you weren't scared of anything. And Jeff just laughed and said I must fancy you, so I got embarrassed and said, well, you were scared of one thing once, and Jeff asked me what it was. I didn't want to tell him but he kept pressuring me to, and he sort of got it out of me."

"You betrayed me," said Amelia, her voice icy.

"I'm sorry," John pleaded, "I'm really, really sorry. Amelia, can you ever forgive me?"

"No. I can't."

In one sudden movement, she shoved him in the chest, so hard he fell backwards – into the pond. He landed with a splash. It wasn't very deep, just up to his waist as he sat in a slump, muddy water streaming from his clothes and hair as he stared, aghast, at Amelia.

"How could you do this to me?" she shrieked. She hadn't felt so upset since her parent's deaths, "Jeff will tell everyone in the village! I'll be a laughing stock!" For the sake of truth, this wasn't the real reason why she was so distraught. It was the fact that it was John, her John, who'd made it happen.

"I'm sorry!" John struggled to his feet in the pond.

"Not good enough," Amelia shook her head, and John noticed her eyes were filled with unshed tears. He was close to crying himself.

"Amelia!" he cried, scrambling onto the grassy bank as she turned to walk away.

"No, leave me alone!" she pushed him again when he tried to follow her. He staggered back. "You're no friend of mine, John Smith."

"No, please! Amelia!" he grabbed her by the arm. She considered pushing him again, and decided against it – he wasn't worth it. She shook him off angrily, and gripped hold of his shoulders.

"Listen to me," her voice was harsh and brisk, "I don't ever want to speak to you again. I don't ever want to see you again. I don't ever want to associate myself with you in any way again. That is why you need to leave me alone. Understand?" Her face was unbelievably close to his, their noses almost brushing. He could feel the cool breath from her mouth against his lips. If the circumstances had been any different, John thought, he might have considered... but no, that would never happen now.

John's whole world was crashing before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. He had seen from his time as Amelia's friend that once she held a grudge against someone she would never let it go. His turbulent blue eyes stared deeply into Amelia's hazel green ones, searching for any sign of forgiveness, but there was none. She let go of his shoulders, leaving him longing for the warmth of her touch. Her eyes were bright and cold, her face blank as she stepped away from him.

Amelia herself felt nothing but sadness and betrayal. John was no different from the others after all. He was no different from her old Scottish friends, who'd promised to write and never had. He was no different from her aunt, who'd promised as she'd sobbed the night she was orphaned that she would be the most loving guardian in the world, and yet had been so distant all these years, hardly someone Amelia could confide in. And he was no different from her parents, who'd lied when they'd said "We'll see you in the morning, Amelia". Just like everyone else she'd ever cared about, he'd let her down. She turned and walked silently across the green, long auburn locks flying in the wind and shining in the sun like raging flames. Of course, she didn't cry; tears hadn't brought her parents back and they wouldn't undo John's deed.

John stood wavering on the spot, staring after his beautiful friend. What would he do now? What was there to live for if he didn't have Amelia? He let a single tear fall, the rest he kept inside.

**Don't worry, it doesn't end here! I just wanted to leave this chapter on a cliff hanger to torture my readers. Moo Ha Ha! (I'm assuming that there are still readers at this point – if you review I'll know so please do! Oh, and thankyou to the people who've already reviewed because it makes me so happy!) **


	7. River

River

For the first week after John had told Jeff about the crack - and Jeff had told everyone else - Amelia had been teased mercilessly. But after seven days of jeering and name-calling, the novelty had worn off.

Yet John had been right – Amelia Pond really could hold a grudge. It had been three months since his betrayal and she hadn't spoken a word to him. At school, if she passed him in the corridor or collided with him in the classroom she would glance blankly at him and pass by in silence. She never showed any fury or hate, she simply acted as though she had never known him, which was far worse.

When he arrived home on that dreadful Saturday, his godparents had, inevitably, enquired why he was dripping wet. And of course he hadn't told on Amelia – a second betrayal would be two too many – but lied and said he had fallen in the pond of his own accord, and that Amelia had never turned up, probably because she had lots of homework. Later, when he returned home after school alone without Amelia day after day, they had been too distracted with their work to ask why. He spent most of his time sat in his room now, sometimes reading a little, but mostly fingering the old homemade Amelia and Raggedy Doctor dolls and gazing out of the window. Without Amelia, he felt lost and alone.

One of the worst things was that, unlike him, Amelia did not wander round on her own at school. She had Rory. That big-nosed imbecile. What did she see in him? She ate with him and his friends in the canteen, wandered around the rugby field with him at breaktime, chatted with him in lessons. She'd probably kissed him by now – the very thought tore John up inside.

To be perfectly honest, it was partly his choice to be alone, because there was someone who would've sold their soul to be in his company. This someone was, to no surprise, Rose Tyler. In her first year of adolescence she was now dying her hair a crude shade of blonde, and wore more makeup than ever.

"John, sit with me!" she'd yell in the canteen.

"No thanks," he'd say bluntly, taking his tray to go and sit on his own by the window.

Because he didn't want Rose. He wanted Amelia. She was all he'd ever wanted.

Amelia had burned all her fairytale Amelia and Raggedy Doctor dolls, stories and drawings in the garden one night when her aunt was out. It had hurt to do so, but she needed to put John Smith behind her. As part of this battle she had befriended Rory Williams. Rory was not always as interesting company as John had been, but he was kind and reliable, sweet and trustworthy. He could keep a secret, not that Amelia had got round to telling him one yet. She hadn't kissed him or anything, he wasn't her boyfriend – although she could tell he wanted to be.

She didn't really know what John got up to these days, and she convinced herself she didn't care. She saw him around the school sometimes, mostly wandering around on his own looking hopeless. She knew Rose Tyler had her eye on him but she shrugged it off. Rose was welcome to him, she told herself.

She'd started reading more than usual. She hung out with Rory and the others out of school sometimes, but not too often. Reading, with her headphones on full blast, stopped her from thinking about her own life, which was good – an escape.

A mile or two out of Leadworth village was a wide, deep and notorious river, the River Lead. One morning, in the middle of an English lesson, a certain Jack Harkness proposed a visit to Amelia.

Jack had moved to Gloucester with his mother, father and brother Gray from the USA just before the start of Year Seven. He was hansom and a real flirt – with both boys and girls, Amelia noticed – and most of the girls had a crush on him. He hadn't really spoken to Amelia before.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, twisting round in his chair and flashing her a white-toothed grin, "What ya doin?"

"Grammar, unfortunately," Amelia raised an eyebrow at him.

Jack laughed. "I meant tonight, sweetheart."

"Tonight, nothing. And it's Amelia, not sweetheart."

"Oh, so we're on first name terms now?"

Amelia couldn't help but grin. "If you like," she said.

Sat behind her, ignored, John was listening closely in on the conversation. His stomach twisted at the idea of Amelia flirting with Jack.

"Why don't you come to the river after school?" Jack proposed.

"You mean the river Lead?" Jack nodded, "Okay."

"You can come with me and the gang."

"Gang?"

"Sure. We call ourselves Torchwood."

"Great name."

"So, you'll be there?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Jack winked and went back to his work. Amelia smiled – she didn't fancy Jack but she liked the idea of hanging out with a gang – and returned to hers. John sat in silence, feeling a little sick. It wasn't just that Amelia was hanging out with the school hunk , it was the fact the river Lead was dangerous and he knew it. What if somthing happened? What if Amelia got hurt – or worse? He knew she was not a vulnerable person, nor was she accident-prone, but he couldn't shake off the anxiety. Before he even knew what he was thinking, he had made up his mind. He was following them.

Amelia didn't have a bike, and the Lead was too far away to journey on foot, so Jack sent a friend of his to pick her up. Owen Harper was not particularly good-looking – at least not in the conventional way – but there was some sort of appeal in his shorthaired, deep eyed existence that made her blush. She gave no complaints when it came to wrapping her arms around his waist on the bike ride.

"Here we are, Meles," smirked Owen, when they had braked near the riverside oak tree Jack and Torchwood were gathered beneath.

"Meals? Do I look like fish and chips to you?" Amelia said, climbing of the back of the bike.

"Oh, don't mind him," yelled Jack from the tree, "He's just testing the new girl. And don't worry, your sense of humour's all in order."

Amelia laughed, and strolled over to the tree with Owen. There, with Jack, were the three other members of Torchwood; Gwen Cooper, the dark-haired, light-eyed girl Amelia had always liked; Toshiko Sato, the beautiful Japanese girl who was top in everything mathematic; and Ianto Jones, who was so quiet and shy Amelia couldn't understand what he saw in cool Torchwood (although that question answered itself when Jack wound an arm around Ianto's waste as he introduced him to Amelia).

The vicious rush of the water was loud, but not loud enough to make conversation a difficult task. The shores of the silver river were jagged and rocky, and all around them was mostly wood. The truth was that Sharon didn't know where her niece was, and probably wouldn't be very happy if she did. Amelia and Torchwood sat in the branches of the oak tree, doing nothing in particular. Amelia sat with Owen. He talked to her about his mother, with whom he did not appear to have a good relationship, and about his plans to be a doctor when he was older. Amelia found herself liking this particular Torchwood member more and more.

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the bushes a few feet away. Then a bump, and a curse word – in a voice Amelia knew.

"Hey, someone go check that out," Jack said, not wanting to remove himself from his close proximity to Ianto.

Gwen and Toshiko slid down from their branch and burrowed into the bush. Amelia sat where she was, green eyes wide. She was tense. A moment later the two girls reappeared, dragging a very familiar boy with dark floppy hair out by the arms. His stormy blue eyes scanned over the tree and, growing anxious and upset, settled on Amelia.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Amelia felt a stirring of sadness within her, but on the outside her face was as cold and uncaring as her words.

Torchwood looked at each other, bewildered. John pulled at his arms, struggling to free them from Gwen and Toshiko.

"The...the river Lead..." he stammered, "Amelia...it's...it's dangerous, Amelia..."

As his pulling continued, Gwen and Toshiko released his arms all of a sudden. It was only then that he realised his restraints had also been his support, and he fell on his hands and knees. There were leaves and thorns in his hair, his clothing was crumpled and so was his face. He looked pitiful.

Owen frowned and leaned sideways to Amelia. "How did Mr Needs-a-Haircut find out you were coming here?"

Amelia shook her head to show she was clueless, then looked down at John and demanded, "John, tell me. How did you know?"

Under the painful glare of Amelia and the entire Torchwood team, John realised he had no choice but to admit all. "I was behind you in English, remember."

"Wow, this pretty thing was behind me all along? What have I missed?" Jack smirked, extracting a jealous grunt from Ianto.

Amelia frowned deeper, "You were spying on me?"

John got to his feet, "I overheard. Amelia, the river Lead is dangerous. You can't be here."

Amelia laughed cruelly, "I'm not a baby. You don't have to hold my hand. John Smith, you insult me."

"I...I'm sorry."

"And you've gotta stop saying that. It doesn't help anyone," John opened his mouth and shut it again. Amelia glared at him, "Get out of here."

With nothing left to say, John crept away. But he didn't leave. He took up pose behind a rock right be the shore where they couldn't see him. Amelia was sitting on a branch hanging right over the treacherous waters; it didn't matter if she wanted him or not, he would wait for Amelia if the world was ending.

About twenty minutes of idle chatting later, Gwen and Toshiko made their way home. Then Jack and Ianto. After half an hour, Owen slid down from his branch as well.

"Come on, Meles," he yawned, "It's seven o'clock, I can't last any longer without beans on toast. Let's hit the road."

Amelia shook her head. "I'll stay here for a while. I need to think."

Owen frowned, "Are you sure? You'll have to walk all the way."

"I'll manage."

There was a pause.

"Are you okay?"

Amelia sighed, "Always."

Owen smiled, and without a word got on his bike and cycled off into the stretch of woodland. Amelia watched him go, a little dreamily. Then she gazed out over the rushing river, at peace with its rage.

It was then that John shuffled behind his rock. He couldn't help it, his legs had gone to sleep, but it was that that made Amelia look up in suspicion, and then creep along the branch, trying to see what she had glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. John watched, mentally praying, as she edged out to where the branch was thin. _Don't let her fall in. Don't let her fall in. _

Amelia wasn't stupid. She stopped before the branch on which she was perched became critically thin, and she was perfectly aware of the danger. _It was probably just a bird_, she dismissed it, when without warning the branch snapped right off the tree. With a gasp of terror she plunged into the freezing rapids.

"Amelia!" John screamed, leaping up onto the rock behind which he'd been hiding.

Amelia surfaced for a moment, spluttering, before a surge of current sucked her beneath. Without hesitation, John leapt into the river. He was a stronger swimmer than Amelia – he was swept up by the current, but he managed to locate her and drag her to the surface. Holding her gasping form to him, he flung his free arm about for somthing, anything, to grab onto.

"John-" Amelia struggled for air.

"You're okay, Amelia, just hang onto me and breathe!" John cried over the rush of the river.

"John!" Amelia had seen the rock coming. John was not so lucky.

It was right in front of them. They were thrown up against it, right out of the water. Amelia had time to throw her arm out in front of her, taking most of the skin off her elbow and knocking all feeling from that arm but saving the rest of her from harm. John, on the other hand, smacked his head hard on the cold grey stone. He was knocked unconscious.

"John!" Amelia found herself yelling for a third time.

She pulled him up onto the rock, which was just about big enough to fit the two of them, and shook him, but he remained senseless. She looked about her, and saw, to her relief, that there was an almost bridge of rocks leading to the left bank. She would easily be able to step-stone her way across. But with John? She looked down at his limp form, slumped in her lap. With her injured arm, which she now realised hung limp and useless by her side? She stared back across the water, then down at John again. She gave her arm an experimental shake. Yes, she had to do it. John had risked himself to save her; she couldn't just leave him here.

Swinging him up over her shoulder was hard, firstly because he was slightly heavier than her, and secondly because she had only one arm with which to hold him there. Which left her with no arm for balance.

Biting her lip, Amelia put her foot on nearest rock, and, wobbling only slightly, crossed over to it. Crossing over to the next rock, she nearly slipped but managed to regain her balance. On the next, she wobbled madly on one leg, almost sending John plummeting to the ground, saving herself not a moment too soon. And so continued her treacherous journey across the rocks, until she made the final leap of faith onto the river bank.

She fell gratefully onto her hands and knees, dropping John not quite as elegantly as she had hoped in the process. Panting, she looked over to where he lay, still unconscious, on his side, and felt a surge of warmth towards him. He had leapt into a deadly rapid river to save her, Amelia, who'd ignored him for three months over an unfortunate slip of the tongue. He could have anyone he fancied, even someone as doting as Rose, yet it was her he wanted. Her! Amelia Pond! Mad, impossible Amelia Pond!

Suddenly she had a terrible, terrible thought. What if he was dying? She knew that happened sometimes when people hit their heads. Breathing hard, she crawled over to where she lay. As gently as possible, she turned him onto his back and placed a hand on his chest. It moved up and down in a calm manner, and his face was so relaxed he could easily have been sleeping. She breathed a sigh of relief and sat down from her crouch. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost John.

It was then that his eyes flickered open. Amelia was the first thing he saw. "Oh, hello Pond," he said.

He was expecting harsh words and coldness. He had the (most wonderful) shock of his life when Amelia threw herself on top of him and kissed him hard on the lips. The kiss lasted for no more than an instant. When she drew away their faces were still no more than an inch apart. She was smiling wider than she had ever smiled before. John's expression was one of pure surprise. His lifelong dream had become a reality all of a sudden, and he was struggling to comprehend it.

"Oh," he said, "That's nice. I...I like that," Amelia sat up, still smiling. John lifted his head up in shock, "Amelia, you're bleeding!"

Sure enough, the arm Amelia had saved herself on the rock with was bleeding at the elbow. But Amelia hardly noticed. She pulled John into a sitting position and hugged him to her like she would never let him go. She felt him burrowing his face into her shoulder, drinking in her scent.

"Guess what?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Gotcha."

There were no thankyous or apologies that day. There was no need. As for the kiss, it wasn't mentioned for a long time. But they never forgot.

**I hope this chapter wasn't too long - it could either be the end of the story or a just a mid-story climax. If you want me to continue, review and tell me so. If I continue, I'll be developing Amelia and John's relationship further as they travel through adolescence together on the road to adulthood, hopefully including lots of drama and romance along the way. If not, you'll have to imagine how their relationship ended up in your head. I really want to carry on but I won't unless I'm sure people aren't getting bored of it. So review please! :) **


	8. Dance

Dance

"So, which is your favourite Beatle?" Amelia asked John, sticking a paper cut-out of Paul McCartney into her collage.

They were fifteen years old, busy with their GCSEs. At the moment, as they lounged on Amelia's bed, John was revising for a science exam and Amelia was doing her History: a project on the twentieth century. She was working on her sixties piece.

"Ringo Star," was John's proud reply.

Amelia spluttered, frowned then laughed, "Ya what? Why?"

John rolled his eyes like it was obvious, "He's called Ringo Star."

"And?"

"Name of the century."

Amelia raised her eyebrows, "What about Amelia Pond?"

"Okay, Ringo is the second name of the century," John relented. Amelia smiled.

"I like John."

"Well, I should hope so. I have been your friend for about eight years."

"John _Lennon_."

"Oh. That is so typical of you!" John scoffed.

Amelia repulsed. "What are you saying?"

"Going along with the crowd, that's so typical of you. Everyone likes John Lennon."

"Because he's great!"

"No, Amelia. Paul has interesting eyebrows. George is hairy. Ringo is called Ringo. There's nothing special about Lennon."

Amelia's mouth fell open in annoyance, "Have you even listened to Beatles music? Ever?"

John looked sheepish, "Uh, no, but..."

"But nothing. Get up," with this demand she slid up off the bed. John looked up at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Get up. I'm gonna play you Across the Universe."

John got to his feet obediently. Amelia rooted in her pile of CDs and placed one in the player. She found the right song, and the music began.

_Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup  
They slither while they pass  
They slip away across the universe  
Pools of sorrow Waves of joy  
Are drifting thorough my open mind  
Possessing and caressing me_

"Oh, okay, that is nice," John admitted as the poetry flowed through his mind.

_Jai guru deva Om  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world_

"He had such an effortlessly beautiful voice," sighed Amelia. John looked at her sideways.

_Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes  
That call me on and on across the universe  
Thoughts meander like a restless wind Inside a letter box  
They tumble blindly as  
They make their way across the universe_

"Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me," Amelia repeated.

_Jai guru deva Om  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world..._

Awkwardly, John moved towards her until she was close enough to put her hand on his shoulder, and him place a hand on her waste. Hesitantly, they took hold of each other's free hand.

_Sounds of laughter Shades of life  
Are ringing through my open ears  
Exciting and inviting me  
_ Their faces were now close together. Amelia looked deep into his eyes in earnest. John blushed and looked away.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Amelia frowned, "Um...turn." They began to turn to the music.

_Limitless undying love_

"What now?"

"Spin me."

_Which shines around me like a million suns_

Carefully lifting her hand, he spun her slowly round on the spot.

_It calls me on and on across the universe_

They continued to turn. Amelia began to step in time to the music. John copied her.

_Jai guru deva Om  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world  
Nothing's gonna change my world _

Amelia began to feel funny about the meeting John's eye. She looked at her feet as John did likewise.

"So, you see, it's wonderful music," she said quickly and quietly.

"Oh...yes," John agreed.

_Jai guru deva Jai guru deva Jai guru deva... _

Finally, they met each other's eyes.Green met blue, they became as one as they drifted and swayed to the tune like the sea, in all its depth andmystery, the green-blue sea. As they danced, they floated in their own world of water. They were sailing away...

"Amelia," John said, blinking, "The music's finished."

Amelia shook herself, "Oh, yeah."

They stopped dancing and she pulled away from him awkwardly. Then she reached over to the CD player and switched it just as the next song began to play.

"That was their last album ever released," she sighed sadly.

"John Lennon's alright," John said brightly. Amelia perked up considerably at that, "Back to work," proposed John.

Amelia grinned slyly, "Nah - let's dance to the Arctic Monkeys."

John grinned back.

This time they danced separately, casually. John was terrible at fast dancing, Amelia realized. They both ended up dissolving into giggles on the floor.

"Well, that was fun," John said in conclusion. What he didn't say was how he'd enjoyed the first dance even more.

**I wanna thank all the reviewers who persuaded me to carry on. Obviously, I don't own John Lennon, the Beatles or the lyrics to Across the Universe. I own nothing, not even this plot seeing as it's been done dozens of times before. But I can dream, can't I? **


	9. Tipsy

Tipsy

It was inevitable. This day had always sat on the horizon. Some were madly exited, some were dreading it, but all knew the day would come. And now they were eighteen and the day – or rather, night – of the End of School Dance was nigh.

"Okay, remember, we're just going as friends," Amelia warned John, "If anyone says anything-"

"Yeah, just friends, I get it!" John snapped irritably. He wasn't sure he wanted to be there 'just as friends'. But he would never tell Amelia that.

The two of them wove their way through the dancing crowd of the school sports hall. There was loud music playing and a display of flashing disco lights, turning the crowd red and blue and green and pink in turn. Amelia wore black pimsole pumps and an olive green dress with a short flared skirt that matched her eyes. John was wearing a blue bow tie, to her exasperation, along with a black suit and white shirt.

"And another thing," she continued in a louder voice, "No dancing for you. We all know what you're like doing disco."

"What about you?" John asked gruffly, "Will you be dancing?"

Amelia smiled, "I wouldn't leave you, you know. We can be party poopers together."

John couldn't help but smile back. The truth was that the only reason they were at the dance anyway was because they didn't want to be seen as nerds, staying at home.

"Drink?" he yelled over the noise.

"Okay."

They pushed through to the punch table and bought two paper cups each. Leaning against a wall, Amelia was the first to take a sip of the bright pink liquid. It tasted strange, of strawberries but also somthing else. She took another, more uncertain, sip. Yes, there was also a strong, bittersweet flavour in there.

"Um, Amelia..." John had also taken a gulp of his drink and looked a little panicked.

"Yeah. I think the punch has been spiked," Amelia confirmed his fears. She didn't know whether to be frightened, disgusted or amused.

John's eyebrows shot about ten feet in the air. He looked back at the stall. No one else as far as he could see had bought a drink; they were too busy dancing. "We should warn everyone."

Amelia fought to feel disgusted, tried to nod her head in agreement with John, but felt the amused option of emotion winning over. She smiled wickedly, "Nah. This could get interesting."

To John's horror, she tipped back her head and drained her cup. She looked up to see him doing the same.

"I didn't say you had to," she said in surprise.

"No, you didn't."

"Want another?"

John looked unsure. "Is that safe?"

Amelia rolled her eyes, "We're not gonna get drunk, John. Don't worry!"

They didn't get properly drunk, true to her word, but after a while they were both decidedly tipsy, and the unassuming others were beginning to drink the punch as well.

"Oh, hello Miss Pond," Owen Harper's words were only slightly slurred.

"Oh, hi..." Amelia said.

"Wanna dance?"

"Yeah, I do."

Ignoring the plaintive expression on John's face, she began to jive with Owen. And rather enjoy it.

"John, dance with me!" For best, Rose was wearing a complete facemask of makeup, bubblegum pink eye shadow and lipstick matching her long netted dress and strappy heels. Her hair was piled up in a great pompadour of ringlets.

"Rose..." John was feeling a little dizzy, "You look...fancy."

Rose laughed tipsily, "I am fancy! Let's dance!"

John's mind wasn't working quick enough to refuse and think of a kind enough reason for it. "Oh, but...okay."

Before he knew it, he was jiving with Rose, who was luckily too overjoyed to notice his terrible moves.

Owen was actually a good dancer, Amelia realised with delight as they twisted and spun to the music.

"Tip me back!" shrieked Rose to John.

Obediently, John grabbed her round the waist and tipped her backwards so that she was hanging over the floor in a precarious manner. He was unsure of what to do next.

"Um...now let me up," Rose said.

He was just about to do that when, tipsy as he was, his grip on her loosened and her body dropped to the floor. She landed in an ungainly fashion on her back. John managed to leap out the way just as her legs flew up in the air, kicking in her unpractical skirt.

"Aaaaaargh! You imbecile! Get me up! Somebody get me up!"

Twisting about with Owen, Amelia heard the scream and looked over along with many other people to where Rose was sprawled out, kicking like an infant. She burst out laughing. Owen followed her gaze and sniggered. Then a few others around them joined in. Before long, almost everyone in the hall was giggling tipsily, while John stood awkward and sheepish. Rose struggled upright, and suddenly Amelia realised there were tears in her pale brown eyes. Well, this was usual, but the look on her powdered face at that moment was not one of self-pity, but of pure humiliation. Guilt hit Amelia like a tidal wave, sobering her immediately. She watched, horrified at herself, as the blonde girl fled the hall. Amelia caught John's eye, and saw that he, like the rest of the dancers, had clearly not seen the tears; he simply looked embarrassed for himself.

Amelia ran from the room – she was following Rose. What else could she do? She had just scarred the girl's adolescence forever. The least she could do was apologise.

She found her in the car park outside. The back of her pink dress was covered in dust from the floor, and she had her back to Amelia. She was sobbing, her shoulders hunched and heaving.

"Rose-" Amelia began.

"Don't," said the blonde girl, turning to face her. Her yellow ringlets were coming loose around her face, which was red and blotched and had trails of mascara running down the cheeks, "Don't apologise to me when you haven't done nothing wrong. Don't do one more thing that will convince me that you're better than I ever will be. You're pretty and clever and strong and good. You're better for him than me. I've been stupid. I got what I deserved."

Amelia opened and shut her mouth, wondering whether to deny Rose's remarks or just leave. "Him..." she said finally. Who was Him?

"John," Rose burst into fresh tears, "Can you understand, Amelia? I've loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him when I was a kid. Such a personality, and he's beautiful in his own way, isn't he? His eyes...so deep...and his brow..." She let out a few noisy sobs, "But I was never good enough for him. It was always you, he only ever wanted you. And just now, I felt I might have a chance. It was so wonderful! And then he just _drops_ me on the floor. Drops me!"

Amelia shook her head, "He didn't mean to," she insisted, "He was tipsy."

"Everyone laughed at me. Nobody checked to see if I was alright or anything! Is that all I'm worth to people? Is it?"

"We were _all_ tipsy. I'm sorry," As she took a cautious step towards Rose, she was reminded of a certain happening when they were just children, back when Rose was hopeful. "You hate me, don't you?"

On Rose's tearstained face there grew a look of surprise, then hurt, then recollection, then finally warmth. Amelia looked back at her sadly.

"Oh no, Amelia," she shook her head so sharply that her whole pompadour crumbled and fell, and pale golden ringlets tumbled out over her shoulders, "I never hated you, not really. When I said that I was nine years old, I was upset, I didn't mean it," she sniffed, "I would like to be your friend."

Amelia walked over to her, and pulled her into a gentle, forgiving hug. "And I would like to be yours. And actually, you're welcome to John because I can tell you now, Rose, that he is just a friend. A friend and nothing but a friend, not ever. I'll nudge him towards you if you like."

Rose shook her head, smiling sadly. "You say you don't love him."

"I don't."

"But you will. You will."

Before Amelia had chance to answer, a familiar voice said "Um, hello, am I interrupting anything?"

It was John, standing guiltily behind Amelia. She was relieved to see that he no longer looked or sounded tipsy. Rose backed away, red in the face and humble.

"Rose..." John saw with horror that she had been crying, "I...I'm sorry I dropped you. It was an accident, I swear."

Rose's face broke into a smile, and both Amelia and John realised that she was, in a weak sort of way, pretty. "Think nothing of it, John," she said kindly.

At that moment, a certain gawky boy with a large nose and sandy coloured hair appeared in the open fire escape door of the hall.

"Oh, Rose, John..." his face reddened, "...Amelia."

John raised an irritated eyebrow as Rory came scurrying over to them, "Yes?"

"...oh! The punch had been spiked! Didn't any of you notice when you tasted it? I've just warned everyone in there! I came out to warn Rose cos I saw her run out...that was really funny, by the way...I didn't know you two were out here as well..." his eyes trailed over to Amelia. Noticing this, John stepped angrily in front of her, blocking her from Rory's view.

"Well, thankyou very much. Go away now," his voice was blunt and crude.

"John!" Amelia stepped out from behind him and took Rory's hand. John shuddered in jealousy, but relaxed when she guided Rory's hand over to Rose's, "You two go and dance. Have fun, and don't drink any of that punch," she said, smiling, "I think John and I are gonna head for home."

Rory looked longingly at Amelia, and Rose glanced wistfully at John, but then the two of them entwined their fingers together and walked off towards the hall door.

"Bye, Amelia! And thanks!" cried Rose just before they slipped in. Amelia waved her off with one arm, taking John's arm with the other. John's skin bristled at her casual touch.

"Come on, you," she laughed, "Next bus to Leadworth."

As they walked together in companionable silence, the suggestive tone of Rose echoed in Amelia's mind.

"_You say you don't love him."_

"_I don't."_

"_But you will. You will." _

**Don't freak out, I'm not pairing Rose with Rory. I'm not that out of my mind! They're just having a dance, I promise. I have plans about Rose's future in this story, but I'll keep it as a nice surprise. As for Rory...I'll find him someone nice, dunno who yet. Review, my pretties, review! **


	10. Change

Change

They went travelling in their gap year. Together. Just as friends.

It was what Amelia had always wanted – to break away from the dull little English village and walk in the dust. It was what John had always wanted – to see the sights and see Amelia seeing the sights. They took a ferry to France, went to Paris and saw the art galleries and the tower and the restaurants. They took a night train – "midnight train", Amelia called it – round Europe; Germany, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, Russia...they flew to Spain, drove to Portugal, explored all over Africa. They worked wherever they could, in restaurants, laundries, shops, wherever somebody would give them a job. They slept in hostels, mostly, but sometimes in kindly local's houses, and once in a rusting bus in a junk yard. They visited Australia and New Zealand, China and Japan, India and Indonesia, Turkey and Greece. They went to America a toured the states. They went from Mexico to the mountains of Peru.

It was wonderful.

Everything changed for them in Brazil, towards the end of the gap year. Amelia thrived in a carnival in Rio, her 'favourite city in all the world where she never got to go'. After that, they took a boat journey down the Amazon towards Manaus. The rain forest was alive with dappled sunlight and the sounds. Amelia leaned over the railing and watched the life on the shore, entranced the mystery of the trees and the life of the birds, animals and reptiles. They passed the occasional group of natives, some who waved merrily and some who scattered warily into the shadows. Amelia was reminded of a book she had read as a child: _Journey to the River Sea_ by Eva Ibbotson. She remembered how it had made her long to come here, when she was ten years old and stuck in Leadworth.

John came out of the cabin, "Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, "The forest is alive."

When Amelia smiled at him, he pulled a small brown envelope out of his pocket and handed to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Postcard or something," he said, "From Leadworth, to you."

Amelia opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. It wasn't a postcard, just a plain rectangle of white card. Rather than handwriting there was typed text. Amelia's hazel green orbs scanned over it, taking in the message. John watched as her mild expression became stiff, then blank. Her eyes went dull and dark. Her fingers, lightly clutching the card, became tight. Her entire posture went numb, and she looked up at him. She tried to say somthing, but no words came out. She shivered in the baking heat.

Panicked, but refusing to show it, John peeled the card from her shaking hands. He read the crude, printed characters. They were:

THIS INFORMATIVE MESSAGE IS ADDRESSED TO MISS AMELIA JESSICA POND, NEICE AND NEXT OF KIN TO SHARON ETHEL KIRCH. AS THE COUNCIL OF LEADWORTH VILLAGE, WE ARE SORRY TO INFORM YOU THAT MS KIRCH WAS FOUND DEAD IN HER HOME ON THE MORNING OF WEDNESDAY 3RD APRIL. THE CAUSE IS PRESUMED TO BE SUDDEN DEATH SINDROME. WE ARE VERY SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS. PLEASE RETURN TO THE VILLAGE IN QUESTION AS SOON AS POSSIBLE IN ORDER TO TAKE CARE OF THE MATTERS AT HAND. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

"Oh, Amelia..." he could think of nothing to say.

"She was forty-two years next Monday," said Amelia numbly, "Just forty-two."

"You weren't close to her, were you?" John said desperately, without thinking.

"_What_?" Amelia's face contorted in anger. She took a step towards him. "Why...why would you say somthing like that? What do you know? You don't know anything!" she yelled at him. He took a startled step back, "You can't possibly understand! Just because I wasn't as close to her as I could have been, maybe? Just because I didn't always like her, she was still my aunt! She was still the only family I had left, and I loved her!" At this personal realisation, that she had in fact loved her distant aunt Sharon, Amelia Pond hereby discovered that her cheeks were wet with tears. Fresh, clear saltwater was dripping from her eyes, trickling down her face. In shock, she collapsed against John's chest, and he hugged her to him with everything he had ever felt for her, and everything he ever would feel.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and for the first time his apology did not sound pitiful, or pleading. It was purely compassionate. He felt Amelia's grief down into the depths of his soul, "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Gotcha."

Amelia laughed through her tears. She was truly sobbing now. Her face was buried in his chest, soaking his shirt. Not that he minded. She pulled away suddenly, one hand still on his chest so that she could feel the reassuring rhythm of his single heart. She stared deep into his stormy blue eyes, afloat in their turbulent waters.

"I thought I let out a lifetime of tears when my mum and dad died," she said, "I must have only let out half. How many tears can a human cry in one little lifetime, d'you think, John? Have I got more to come?"

"Not while I'm around," John stared back into her eyes as if searching for somthing.

She blinked at him, and opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with his lips on hers in a gentle caress. A sweet, soft kiss that told of more passion than any active snog. It lasted for a minute or less, then John pressed his forehead against Amelia's. They regained soulful eye contact.

"Say it," she said softly.

"Why should I be the one to say it?"

"Why not?"

"Amelia, I've been looking at you doe-eyed since I was seven. Don't you think it's time you gave somthing back?"

"I didn't know until now. You did. You say it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"...I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Just afraid. I'm so, so scared."

"Aren't we all?"

There was a pause. John took Amelia's face in his hands.

"I love you."

"I love you."

What else was there to say?


	11. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Yeah, just a note. No chapter. Sorry****.**

**I was planning on adding more chapters to this, but I decided against it. All the drama is pretty much finished now anyway. Just to confirm:**

**Yes, they will get married and have babies.**

**They will probably live in Scotland. **

**John will become a doctor.**

**Amelia will use her amazing imagination to become a famous author. That seems right for her.**

**Towards the end of their retired life (growing old together! Aww!) Amelia will publish a novel called **_**The Blue Box**_,** about, well...you know what it's about. It will be louded as a master piece. **

**Sorry, I didn't have the patience to write any of this property. I just thought I should probably set your minds at ease with their future. **

**I've had so many wonderful reviews! Thankyou so much to...**

**Lucky709**

**The Beth midget **

**Curlycarly113**

**MaryandMerlin**

**zarya**

**LilyHale21**

**GracefullyClumsy**

**TwighlightHayley**

**JDElliotForever **

**DancingSpy**

**[No name. Said somthing about jack and torchwood]**

**GwenCooper456**

**Holly's Mean Reds**

**MNM and GIR means FRENDZ 4EVA**

**EmaleeKay**

**Hannah**

**InuChan7979**

**Amy Littiere**

**Brooke**

**missprofessorwho**

**thedoctor'sfeziscool**

**Can't round it up without this: **

**~The End~**


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